"Quite right, old fellow--always right! But--here's an idea! I could
stand at the head of the stairs and throw them down as they mounted,
while you had leisure to look around for your stolen box----"
"My dear Prince Erlik, we've nothing to shoot with, and it's likely
they have. There's only one way to get upstairs with any chance of
learning anything useful. And that is to start a row between
ourselves." And, raising his voice as though irritated, he called for
the reckoning, adding in a tone perfectly audible to anybody in the
vicinity that he knew where roulette was played, and that he was going
whether or not his friend accompanied him.
Sengoun, delighted, recognised his cue and protested in loud, nasal
tones that the house to which his comrade referred was suspected of
unfair play; and a noisy dispute began, listened to attentively by the
pretty but brightly painted cashier, the waiters, the gérant, and
every guest in the neighbourhood.
"As for me," cried Sengoun, feigning to lose his temper, "I have no
intention of being tricked. I was not born yesterday--not I! If there
is to be found an honest wheel in Paris that would suit me. Otherwise,
I go home to bed!"
"It is an honest wheel, I tell you----"
"It is not! I know that place!"
"Be reasonable----"
"Reasonable!" repeated Sengoun appealingly to the people around them.
"Permit me to ask these unusually intelligent gentlemen whether it is
reasonable to play roulette in a place where the wheel is notoriously
controlled and the management a dishonest one! Could a gentleman be
expected to frequent or even to countenance places of evil repute?
Messieurs, I await your verdict!" And he folded his arms
dramatically.
Somebody said, from a neighbouring table: "Vous avez parfaitement raison, monsieur!"
"I thank you," cried Sengoun, with an admirably dramatic bow.
"Therefore, I shall now go home to bed!"
Neeland, maintaining his gravity with difficulty, followed Sengoun
toward the door, still pretending to plead with him; and the gérant,
a tall, blond, rosy and unmistakable German, stepped forward to unlock
the door.
As he laid his hand on the bolt he said in a whisper: "If the gentlemen desire the privilege of an exclusive club where
everything is unquestionably conducted----"
"Where?" demanded Neeland, abruptly.
"On the third floor, monsieur."
"Here?"
"Certainly, sir. If the gentlemen will honour me with their names, and
will be seated for one little moment, I shall see what can be
accomplished."
"Very well," said Sengoun, with a short, incredulous laugh. "I'm
Prince Erlik, of the Mongol Embassy, and my comrade is Mr. Neeland,
Consul General of the United States of America in the Grand Duchy of
Gerolstein!"
The gérant smiled. After he had gone away toward the further room in
the café, Neeland remarked to Sengoun that doubtless their real names
were perfectly well known, and Sengoun disdainfully shrugged his
indifference: "What can one expect in this dirty rat-nest of Europe? Abdul the
Damned employed one hundred thousand spies in Constantinople alone!
And William the Sudden admired him. Why, Neeland, mon ami, I never
take a step in the streets without being absolutely certain that I am
watched and followed. What do I care! Except that towns make me sick.
But the only cure is a Khirgiz horse and a thousand lances. God send
them. I'm sick of cities."